"Life's too short to even care at all...."

Not really, but I'll explain why in a second.

So a month into my time in Rome, my hair is getting a little out of control, and I need to find a barber.  Early in the program, there was brief miscommunication between two girls that one had gotten her hair done here and the other exclaimed, "You got your hair done here?!?  I would never get my hair cut by someone I couldn't communicate with."  I guess this a rational thought, and it did weigh on me for a second; I even thought of cutting my own hair as I had done before.  But then I remember I am here for the full immersion experience, and just get over it.

On my commute home, there is a small barbershop (no more than 4 chairs) outside the metro stop before I reach the bus stop, and I decide to slip in.  I have this all planned out.  I ask if anyone speaks English (an old gentleman shrugs and makes an 'eh' sound), then I move on to say, "il mio Italiano è cosi cosi, ma posso provare."  (Here I did some of the work for you)  He leads me to a chair and we stare awkwardly at each other through the mirror as a I work up the courage to sound like a complete idiot. 

First I grab the hair on the side of my head and I say, "Tagli mezza di questa," then grab the hair on top of my head and say, "Lascia la maggiore parte di questa." (As I recount this to you I am checking grammar on google translate and I actually did a pretty good job)  The man responds with something along the line of, "Questi più lunghi di questi," and I kick myself for not remembering that 'hair' in Italian is plural, 'i capelli.'  He also tugs at my scraggly, unkempt beard and asks in a very soft voice, "shave?"  I stumble through telling him I will take care of it later and then we are on our skeptical, but trustworthy way.  This is where the title comes in. 

Last semester I got into a band called Young the Giant.  The first and last line of their song "Cough Syrup" is, "life's too short to even care at all."  What song come's on just as the Barber of Seville takes to my hair.... Cough Syrup.  I am greeted by the soft familiar riff with cello and the sage advice, "life's to short to even care at all."  It is at this moment that I decide, 'ya know, what ever happens, happens.'

I've only been to one other Italian barber before in my life; I went with my aunt (she's a native Italian speaker so no problem there) and mom.  All I remember is my mom commenting on how inefficient he was, even refilling the lollipop bucket while I was in the chair.  - - The at the first distracted glance of present day Mr. Italian Barber Man reminds me of this and I think, "I hope Maria Luisa planed a late diner."

The whole experience wasn't bad at all.  I got out of there in 30 minutes and was content with my haircut, though i made some minor alterations later.  It was 15 euro, which was a little expensive, but not terrible.  I kept thinking about that line from Cough Syrup, "life's to short to even care at all," and how it sort of put my mind at ease.  In conversations I have had in the days following the haircut, some about stress, jobs, and *gasp* 'the future,' I have found this line is very applicable.  It is not saying to never care, it is in fact not specifying anything of which to not care about, but instead letting you know that sometimes when that little thing is eating at you, life's too short to even care at all.